If you’re not watching Girls on HBO then you should know that I am judging you big time right now. Seriously, WTF Internets!?! How are we supposed to have a meaningful anonymous connection if we can’t bask in the glory of our shared love of this epic show? I mean COME ON.
Seriously though, Girls is by far my favorite show. Right behind Downton Abbey. Which, because they both air on the same night, makes for entertainment-filled yet somewhat confusing Sunday evenings in our household. Basically we go from being regaled by a bunch of lovable WASPS wearing one hundred layers of clothing and saying things like “Your hair looks jolly today Edith,” to being somewhat uncomfortable at the sight of Lena Dunham’s yet again naked ass.
Repeated semi-full-frontal assaults notwithstanding, Girls is brilliant. Each episode usually makes me laugh, cry, and then laugh again, all within the span of thirty minutes. I have become vested in the characters in a way that only great storytelling can achieve, although I haven’t felt compelled to write about it, until now.
When the show first came out it was promoted as being the voice of today’s twenty-something women. The reviews glowed about how the show perfectly captured the confusion, insecurity and angst of these newly-minted, semi adults. So I fully expected to sit back, enjoy the great writing and smirk self-satisfactorily at the fact that I was SO happy to be SO beyond that stage in my life.
And at first that’s exactly how it went. I was all like, “Hah! I remember being that insecure. I’m SO much more together now. Silly kids.” But then a funny thing happened, I began to recognize bits of myself in the characters. And it wasn’t the me from a decade ago. It was the me from a few years ago, the me from a month ago, the me from five minutes ago. The “me” me, you know?
This fact really hit home when, during the Feb 3rd episode, Marnie (played by Allison Williams) said, “I don’t know what the next year of my life is going to be like at all. I don’t even know what I want. Sometimes I wish someone would just tell me, like, this is how you’re supposed to spend your days and this is how the rest of your life should look,” and I knew exactly how she felt because I had thought the same thing when I was struggling with what to do with my career last summer. I was so tired of thinking about it and obsessing over it that I just really wanted someone to make the decision for me. You know, take it out of my hands already because I had reached my limit of analyzing all of the potential outcomes. (By the way, I’m still totally open to any suggestions on this front.)
Then during last week’s episode, when Lena Dunham’s character, Hannah, admits that she actually wants what we all want, to be truly loved, I was reminded of how for a few years after my divorce I used to say that I never wanted to get married again and how much better it was to be on your own. I meant it too, because the pain of ending a marriage was so gut-wrenchingly awful that the thought of being that close to someone again was, at that time, just too terrifying.
And that’s why I love this show. Because it’s not really about twenty-somethings living in Brooklyn. It’s about love and friendship and dreams and wants and struggles and laughter and pain and hope and making mistakes and then trying not to make them again. It’s a show about life. About you and me. About all of us.
So if you don’t watch it, start. And if you do, call me so that we can talk about how on what planet Hannah would ever land a hottie like JoshUA.
Categories: Rants and Raves